


Crossing the Rubicon

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [42]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The point of no return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing the Rubicon

It’s too late to change his mind now, much too late. Poe knows he’s got one shot and one shot alone. One chance to make this work. 

His trajectory is locked: there’s no fuel left to correct this course. He either lands, triumphant, or his name is etched deeply into a memorial wall. It won’t even be under his mother’s name, because the Resistance moves about so often that the scritches into stone are as scattered as the stars. So many names. So many homes. So many lost, and remembered by none. 

Do. Or die. Adrenaline in his hands. A bubble of nervous laughter under his tongue. He lifts his head proudly, and locks eyes with ones long hidden. The mask is unforgiving, is curved in perpetual sorrow and anger combined. No mouth, because he’s gagged. No smile, and words at a remove. 

“You’ve got to stop.” 

“You don’t know what you–” 

Don’t panic, don’t panic. “Just stop! Stop it! This isn’t you! This isn’t what you wanted!” His tone less calm than he would have liked, but more Human. 

“You don’t know me, Dameron.” 

Surname. Distancing himself. The name of his parents, of the Academy, of his role. His official face, not his personal one. _Ben would never…_

“I used to. And you didn’t want this.” A hand, waving at the galaxy, at the mess, the deaths, the pain. “You… wanted to help people. Save people. You wanted to be a hero.” 

“There’s no such thing as heroes.” 

Dammit! He knows that Ben’s - Kylo’s - family let him down, but: “Want to tell me how Shara wasn’t? She didn’t have the Force. She died trying to make a difference. You think she’s not a hero?” 

“This isn’t–” 

“This isn’t what you believe in. You believe in doing good. Don’t let making a mistake - no matter how big - ruin the rest of your life.” He tries to keep the message clear, and his core echoes the decision on and on and on inside. If Kylo is listening… 

“It’s too late.” 

Fuck. Yes. No. Both. 

“It’s never too late,” he whispers. “Not ever. You’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you. Do you really want to keep being in pain, keep doing what you know is wrong? Come _home_.” If he’d thought about this beforehand, maybe he’d have come up with something more convincing. 

But he hasn’t. 

“I believe in you,” Poe says, and a fat tear makes his vision flood. He wipes it on the back of his hand. “You’re better than this, and whatever you need, whatever I can do… Ben. _Kylo_. I’m here. I’ll do anything if you just come **home**.” 

The Knight wavers, stance unsure. Poe sniffs, waits. If Kylo doesn’t come with him, he’d rather die than go back his prisoner. He’s above such blackmail aloud, though he can’t keep his ultimatum from his thoughts. 

“It’s too late for me. I’m… I’ve gone too far… It hurts, Poe. It hurts. I want… I…” 

Poe might die. He might die multiple times a week, but normally from afar. Today, though, he walks right up to a Dark Jedi. Ignores Death, and wraps his arms around the taller man. Holds him tightly, and shoves his head under the mask. 

“It’s never too late. Come back; it might be the hardest thing you do, but it’s worth it. And I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I swear it.” Come home, come home, come home. 

The man he’s clutching… crumples. Strings cut, he collapses. Only the pilot shoring him up prevents his dissolution into a puddle. 

Poe cries. Kylo cries, too. Hands that pull and give, a grief for an innocence long-lost. Poe holds on until he’s sure he’s going to pass out. 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo says. 

“I know.” Poe pulls the helmet down, kisses where the temple lies below. “Come home. It’ll be okay. I promise.” 

A nod. An acceptance. A decision. 

It’s never too late, it’s just… sometimes really hard to pull the nose from a dive. You might scrape your underbelly, but you can do it. Or die trying. 


End file.
